The Moorecock Legacy
by unutterably stupid dragon
Summary: Mary Straker is working for the Blackwood Foundation. Ed Straker, Commander of SHADO, comes to share knowledge with Harrison Blackwood and his people.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: SHADO, Ed Straker and Mary Straker Rutland belong to Century 21 production, Gerry Anderson, etc. The Blackwood Foundation and denizens belong to – uh – mmm – I don't remember, but not to dragon. g The intersection of the two is strictly dragon's rather odd concept.

Warning: for those who don't like reading stories out of sequence, this story follows two which haven't been written and contains spoilers pertaining to Caleb Moorecock. Very small spoilers.

Time: Relatively current

Place: California

Rating: PG – if that

Synopsis: Politics is not the only thing that makes strange "bedfellows".

The Moorecock Legacy

The airplane hit the tarmac, bounced slightly, the tires biting the concrete as the braking system cut in and slowed so that the pilot could wheel the mass of steel and plastic into a parking bay at the terminal. The airplane came to a full stop, the boarding/unloading chute snuggled up to the side of the plane. The door opened. It was time for the passengers to get off.

The tall, slender man with the pale hair and haunted eyes pulled his carry on out of the overhead bin and walked down the aisle separating the banks of seats with the rest of the arrivals. Ed Straker walked into the terminal and looked around. His gaze went to the windows. He had expected the day to be overcast. Instead, the sky was blue with incredible depth, fluffy white clouds sitting here and there to give a story book look to the place. He snorted gently. Story book was right. This was LAX – the airport entrance to Hollywood and disasters.

He looked around again, not quite certain who he was looking for in this crowd of people. His direct gaze landed on another direct gaze. Nearly black eyes under straight black brows in a tanned face, a mouth like a straight line sat under a nose that looked almost sharp, .short black hair, only slightly longer than military cut finished off the face. The bearing was hard ass military. It echoed his own. Both men nodded infinitesimally and walked toward each other. They stopped about three feet apart and took another look. The crowd moving like a huge amorphous animal around them seemed to feel that moving between them was not a good idea.

"Mr. Straker? I'm Paul Ironhorse. Welcome to LA." Paul held out a hand. Straker took the offered contact. It was a good strong handshake. "If you'll come with me."

Nod. Ed followed the dark man through the continually moving crowds to the luggage delivery carosel, collected his single suitcase and then followed him out to the parking area. The silence between them didn't seem to bother his guide. Ironhorse moved with a practiced ease and grace. A momentary vision of deerskin and feathers was dismissed with a slight frown.

As they moved through the sea of vehicles patiently awaiting their owners, they exchanged coded password phrases, satisfying security usages. If he was surprised when Ironhorse produced a small Geiger counter from the trunk of the discreet late model sedan and ran it over him, he didn't show it. Formalities over, they climbed into opposite sides of the vehicle and drove out of the parking lot. They were moving into the multiple lanes of traffic of a major highway artery when the driver seemed to remember the amenities.

"Would you like to stop for lunch?"Paul asked.

"If you would."

"I believe housekeeping can have something waiting for us, if you don't mind."

"Not at all."

Tension and silence. Both men measuring each other and finding the underlying hard core that made each what he was. Ed Straker wondered what he would find at the end of the drive. General Henderson had not been particularly forthcoming about the Blackwood Foundation. He had harrumphed a great deal and dismissed Straker's questions. He hadn't really *said* anything. The General was not happy about Straker's decision to visit the Foundation.

Paul Ironhorse sensed the tension in his guest. He wondered what the man knew that had caused General Wilson to endorse his visit without the usual precautions. The General was elusive in his answers, skirting giving any actual information. But he had also been decisive in his recommendation that the Blackwood Foundation should meet and exchange information with Commander Straker. Both men were relieved that there was no alien activity directed toward stopping the meeting.

At the mansion housing the Blackwood Foundation, the Foundation's namesake was taking a catnap when Ironhorse and Straker arrived. The mansion sat on extensive grounds, an impressive expanse of green grass surrounding the house itself. A paddock in which a horse and rider could be seen moving at a canter was just to the left of the drive. Behind the house was a stand of pine trees, tall with age. In the distance, Straker thought he could just hear the sound of surf hitting a beach. He could smell salt in the air.

Suzanne McCullough, her dark hair caught back in a butterfly clip and casually dressed in denims and a blue work shirt, was out on the grounds watching her daughter ride, alternately torn between motherly concern and motherly pride at her daughter's evident capabilities. She turned to look as the car drove up the drive, waving and turning back to her daughter.

Ironhorse parked the car at the top of the drive, just beyond the front entrance. He took Straker's suitcase, leaving the other man to bring in his cargo of information in his briefcase. Inside, Norton Drake, the resident chocolate skinned, velvet voiced paraplegic computer genius was deep in conversation with an attractive pale blonde woman in the comfortably appointed living room when Ironhorse came in with their guest. Both looked up curiously. They had been aware that they were to have a guest, but no details had been divulged. Norton looked curious. Mary looked surprised, her color fading a little. Then she gave Ironhorse an exasperated look.

"Norton. Mary. Commander Edward Straker of SHADO."

Mary blinked. Norton looked from the woman to the pale man in the doorway and back again. There were undercurrents here. He wasn't quite certain what they were. Straker? Where had he heard that name? Oh, of course, Mary's – ex – husband. Oh. My.

Mary took a breath, released it and walked across the pale carpet to greet him, her hand held out in welcome. They clasped hands as she smiled at him.

Straker's head was whirling. Of all the things in the world he had expected, this was not one of them. His Mary – No, strike that. His ex-wife, up to her pretty ears in – he firmly sat on the slight boggling motions and sounds going off in the back of his head. Instead, he smiled back, warily.

"Ed, it's good to see you." She threw another of those looks that should have told Ironhorse he was in trouble. He met it blandly. "You've met Paul. This is Norton Drake, our resident computer genius. And the sleepy looking gentleman joining us is Dr. Harrison Blackwood. Harrison, this is – Commander Straker." She stumbled a bit over the title. Was she ever going to have a few things to say to Paul when he had a minute.

Harrison and Norton shook hands and an uneasy silence fell.

Suzanne came in with a coltish young girl. Long blonde hair tumbled out of her proper riding hat as she removed it, bubbling about her success on the horse. Suzanne took in the tableau in the living room and shooed her daughter upstairs to change. "Hi. I'm Suzanne. I hope you'll excuse Debbie for being excited. She's not quite over getting to learn to ride." She raised her eyebrows in inquiry at Paul as she shook hands with the stranger.

"Straker. Ed Straker."

"Commander Straker is here for an information exchange," Paul clarified.

Norton, Harrison and Suzanne all looked slightly stunned.

Suzanne broke first. "There's another project? Why the hell don't they tell us about these things? We're duplicating efforts! Wasting time! Dammit all!" She flung herself into an overstuffed chair and fumed silently, looking not much older than her 12 year old daughter.

Harrison and Norton both noted the puzzled look their guest gave her. Harrison, ever the host, invited him to sit down. "Look, I know this is all – rather confusing –" He faltered at the really direct, penetrating stare the man gave him.

"Not at all. Given the reactions of General Henderson to my decision to come here, I suspect we may not be working on the same problem. SHADO has been – functioning for over fifteen years now. The threat seems to concentrate on Northern Europe." He came to a decision and opened his briefcase. Inside were photos, briefings, everything SHADO had learned to date about their annoying opposition.

He sat back and let them sort through the information, watching who latched onto what. He noticed that Mary stepped back, letting the "senior" members get at the information first. Harrison and Suzanne poured over the photographs while Norton scanned the computer data printouts. The in depth work was on a handful of CD's.

Mary migrated across the room to Paul's side as he stood, patiently waiting for the people in the room to start asking questions, to find out where he might fit into this work session. She caught his arm and pulled him into the hallway, out of sight and out of earshot of the quartet in the living room. He looked at her curiously. She was annoyed, maybe angry. He suspected he knew why, but refrained from smiling.

"Paul Ironhorse," she started in, her tone exasperated. "I realize there is a "need to know" protocol, but you *could* have warned me!" she fumed quietly.

He looked bland, then relented. "I wasn't certain he was coming until this morning."

"You – oh! You're as annoying as he was!" That was when it really hit her that she now knew exactly what had torn apart her marriage all those years ago. She met Paul's gaze with a stricken look. Her eyes watered and tears spilled over. "Oh, my god. *That's* what he was doing - *That's* what – Oh, no –" She hid her face in her hands.

Paul looked at her in concern. He'd momentarily forgotten that Mary Straker had not known what her husband was involved in. Realizing he might have made a major blunder here, he hesitated, then gently put his arms around her, trying to be comforting.

Harrison, knowing that Paul's military and security expertise would make more of a lot of what they were talking about than they could went looking for the Col. His eyebrows rose at the sight of Paul holding their newest staff addition. Then he got a look over the top of her head that he recognized. Paul was out of his depth.

Mary sniffed, coughed and gave herself a sharp call to order. She wiped her face and backed out of Paul's loosened embrace. She looked around at Harrison and gave him a watery smile. "Oh, dear. I am making a fool of myself, aren't I? I'll be all right. I'll go freshen up and see if there's coffee." She started for the stairs, then looked back. "Should I take bets on whether he's eaten or not?" she

asked with a smile.

Paul looked struck. "I'll take care of it."

"Light and sweet," she called after him. He looked back with a frown. "Coffee. He likes it light and sweet."

A nod and Paul vanished into the back of the house to find the housekeeper and request food and coffee.

Harrison wandered back into the living room with a thoughtful look on his face. It wasn't Mary and Straker who caused the look. A whole different set of aliens. Humanoid aliens. Genetically compatible aliens. The mind boggled. At least they didn't seem to be intent on wholesale invasion. Not like the ones the Foundation faced, and lost to again and again and again.

Mary returned as the housekeeper brought in sandwiches and drinks. She could see Ed's surprise when he was handed a cup already prepared the way he liked it. His eyes flickered to her. She smiled at him. Then Norton asked her something and she turned away.

Ed watched the interplay between the wheelchair bound man and his ex-wife. He remembered when she looked at him that way. Odd, he never remembered that sort of tenderness between her and Rutledge. Not in his presence. The other had always been – domineering, superior, jealous? He pulled his attention back to the questions Suzanne was asking and he found himself wishing he'd brought Dr. Jackson along. He told her the disks probably held most of the answers she wanted.

She looked to Ironhorse in inquiry. He nodded.

"Let the man eat, Suzanne," Norton cut in. "Starvation is not good for the brain, whatever it's considered to do for the soul."

Suzanne laughed. "Ok. I'll behave. Harrison – Harrison!"

"Hmm? Yes?"

"Food." She raised a sandwich, peered at the side. "Ugh. Yours." She handed him the vegetarian sandwich and reached for a ham and cheese for herself. She grinned at Straker, wishing the man would relax. "He's a vegetarian." Delicate shudder. "The things he eats – " Her quick grin took any potential sting from her words.

"You're not British, are you?" she asked around her sandwich.

"No."

"East Coast?"

"Yes."

"Monosyllabic?" Harrison inserted impishly.

That got a slow smile and a bit of relaxation. "Frequently."

Suzanne laughed, Harrison grinning as he took a seat and rapidly ingested his sandwich.

They left the remains to be cleaned up by the housekeeper and took Straker into the secure section of the residence. The elevator was roomy enough to accommodate everyone and Norton's wheelchair. The area they entered was sleek, stainless steel, compact and complete. Lab, analysis, and think tank all in one. Suzanne took the CDs and started feeding them into the computer.

"Hey!" objected Norton. "Scan 'em. No viruses, please! Not even accidental ones!"

"Yes, Norton!" she shot back and diligently set the virus scan to check each disk before downloading it into their databanks. "Whew, that is a lot of data!"

"I believe someone said "share"," Mary pointed out.

Norton grinned. "Forward 30, Gertrude." The chair glided effortlessly across the floor at his command, bringing him to rest in front of his own computer access station. He booted the terminal and brought up the files on their own opposition. The invaders of 1953 and earlier, the aliens who sought to eradicate humanity and take the planet from us, the aliens who had hibernated for 35 years to come back with a vengeance, the aliens who had forced the formation of the Blackwood Foundation.

The information flooded across the screen. Ed stopped it at the images of the aliens. He had vague memories of something happening in 1953. He had equally vague memories of an instructor at the Air Force Academy touching on an invasion. It hadn't seemed all that important at the time. He looked over the ship diagrams and information as well as the documented technology items the Foundation had found and worked on, never quite managing to figure out how things were powered and made to work.

Ed stretched and moved to unkink his back, realized that he'd been pouring over alien technology for several hours and looked around. He met Ironhorse's gaze and got up to walk over to where Paul sat watching the others. "Security?"

Paul looked up. "Yes. Military intervention when necessary."

"We're fighting two different wars."

Paul nodded. "I think I'm glad your end stays away from ours, although there's a chance they would not work together."

Straker nodded. "No. I think you've got the smaller problem, but nastier aliens. I can see why they're here, but why her?" he nodded to where Mary stood just behind Norton. He ignored the twinge of – jealousy?

"Norton asked for her. We tend to get too close to the problem. We eat, sleep and dream aliens. Mary's fresh on the job. And she has a way of looking at things that will pull a fresh perspective up for us. Norton's very happy with her addition to staff, so is Harrison. So far, she hasn't been asked to take a look at Suzanne's notes. And I suspect she won't be." The evaluation was accompanied by a tolerant, understanding smile. Two very lovely women, even intelligent, educated lovely women, were not going to work much with each other. At least, that was his entirely male dominant view of things.

"She's hardly field –"

"No. I try to keep both her and Norton here, back up and liaison in case of the field team failing. But, sometimes, that isn't an option. She can handle herself."

Straker made a non-committal sound. Mary. Here. Helping fight aliens. He'd manage. Somehow, he'd manage. He watched her with Norton. Her friendly touch on the man's shoulder as they looked over the data, his glances up at her, the warmth in her eyes – he'd manage.

They called it a day about midnight, returning upstairs to a dinner the housekeeper had set back several times waiting for them to appear. Debbie had long since gone to bed. They were too tired to discuss much. Straker discovered he was too tired to even be hungry. He ate a few mouthfuls and watched the others sleepily. He saw the camaraderie between them, the kind built under the stress of secrecy and battle. Mary was still something of an outsider, but she was accepted.

Mary; she was still easy to look at. Her pale hair was pulled back in a ponytail, the end falling over her shoulder. She wore little make up, apparently following Suzanne's lead. There was no need. She was still as lovely as the day they met. He frowned to himself. There was something more. There was – serenity, determination, a strength he had suspected was there but had never found while they were married.

She walked Norton to his rooms when they retired, leaving Suzanne to show Ed to his room. She wasn't certain she wanted to be alone with Ed, not yet. She could see the longing in him and she knew that she was not the answer to that longing. She knew she felt strongly about Norton Drake, feelings she had known a pale shadow of when she was "in love" with Ed Straker. She'd been young, excited, desperate to be loved and loving when she met Ed and let him woo her. She knew

now that she had been more in love with the idea of being in love with the dashing young American officer than she had been truly in love with the man inside the uniform. She could look at him now, tired, worn by the long day, and know that if she had loved him as fiercely as she suspected he had loved her, she would never have left him.

She knew that what she felt for Norton was gentler, stronger and more deeply felt than anything she'd known before. She also knew she was just a little afraid of letting Norton know how she felt. They were from very different worlds. Not just Britain and the US, but black and white, walking and paraplegic, stiff upper lip and sometimes a little too much lip. She chuckled. and all the differences seemed to matter only in a very narrow little world she no longer inhabited. Wait and see, she counseled herself. Wait and see.

end part one


	2. Chapter 2

Dreams.

Norton Drake dreamed of running and flying. He dreamed of fields of flowers and grass and a wholly unexpected warm blonde woman running across those fields with him. He turned to look at her. He saw Mary's smiling face. He reached for her, pulled her to him, kissed her pale willing lips. Movement. Behind her. Strong, rope like arms ending in three appendages pulled her away from him, separated them, started to seep into her –

He started awake, sweat trickling down his face onto his pillow. He shuddered. Was this what Suzanne found in her dreams? Dreams of losing Debbie to the enemy, losing her essence but not her form? He turned on a light, shifted into his wheelchair and rolled into the bathroom for a towel to wipe away the sweat, to soak up the fear that engendered it and the dream.

He looked in the mirror. He saw a pleasant looking black man in his early 30's. What did she see when she looked at him? What did Mary see?

Suzanne McCullough frowned in her sleep. She shifted, restless. She saw aliens, aliens and more aliens. She saw unsolvable biological problems keeping her from being the mother she should be to her daughter. She saw the aliens she hated and feared merging with the ones in red suits. She watched them meld and merge into a new and more terrifying form that rained fire from the sky on helpless humans. She watched her daughter grow up and grow old, never understanding what her mother did, or why. And she was content. Debbie was safe.

Harrison Blackwood dreamed as he always dreamed. He watched his parents moving in fear. He watched other adults running, afraid. He saw them vaporized by the alien weapon. And there was nothing he could do. Absolutely nothing. The aliens haunted him as they haunted no other member of the staff. They took his parents. They took Sylvia, driving her mad and away from him and Forrester. They took Forrester when no one would continue the research to confirm or deny his theories. Now they were taking his own life in the search to find a way to stop them. And always, they mocked him when all he really wanted was peace with them.

Paul Ironhorse slept soundly. If he dreamed of aliens and elders and battle, no one else would ever know.

Debbie McCullough, sprawled across her bed, sheets cast onto the floor, dreamed of horses running in golden meadows. She dreamed of races and winning. She dreamed of riding forever, her mother looking on in approval. She saw the shadows behind her mother, but ignored them. Shadows were for grown ups and their world, not for triumphant Debbie and her riding dreams.

Mary Roberts Straker Rutland lay in the darkness and stared up at the ceiling. She'd tried closing her eyes. It wasn't working. Her brain was whirling with information and with new understanding. She blinked tears out of her eyes, letting them slide away to dampen her pillow. So much she hadn't understood. So very much she had never even imagined. Aliens. So many aliens. Aliens that melded with human victims, taking their memories, their minds and leaving behind a puddle of goo when they vacated the host. Aliens that stole human bodies for organs. Aliens that hated humanity and wanted to destroy it. Aliens that probably couldn't live without what humanity supplied. Pity they couldn't set the two of them at each other, she thought with a watery chuckle. That might solve both problems. Or cause more. Earth as a battle ground for two disparate alien races. Ugh. Worse and worse.

At the center of one conflict, her ex-husband. At the center of the other, a man about whom she was coming to care more and more. What was she? An alien fighter magnet? Another watery chuckle. Oh, my. Poor Ed. Pitchforked into this meeting without a clue she would be here. It had to be rough on him. They needed to talk. But how? How could she apologize for all that pain? How could she let him know she understood now, but that what they had felt – what she had felt – was gone. That too much time had passed to try to work out more than a way to deal with each other as human beings, not as lovers.

How could she make him see that what they had shared was – a fantasy far more than a reality? Maybe she should find an excuse to go deal with the flat in England. She needed to get rid of it, move the rest of her stuff over here. She'd talk to Paul – No, dammit. She grinned at her borrow from Suzanne's vocabulary. No. Running was not the answer. If she could face slimy, horrible, human hating aliens and survive, she could find a way to help both of them survive this.

With that thought firmly held, she closed her eyes, wiped her face, turned her pillow over to the dry side and settled down to try to sleep.

Edward Straker, Commander of SHADO, ex-husband of Mary Rutland, lay back on the bed in the guest suite and tried to organize his thoughts. He failed miserably. For once, he was not in control. For once? When had he ever been in control? Not of his life, not of his destiny, not of – hell. He marshaled his thoughts with a firm hand and began to organize things.

One, there were two sets of aliens. Great. There was an invasion force that had been stopped already, no thanks to human intervention, and was now moving again, thanks to human intervention in the form of terrorists who had not known exactly what they were doing. Two, the Blackwood Foundation had not known about the aliens that SHADO had been formed to fight.

Three, that gave Straker and SHADO about fifteen years of experience on the Foundation against an enemy that was sporadic and not completely inimical to human life; just the occasional organ donor.

He sighed and felt the years pressing in on him. In two short years, the Blackwood Foundation had held against an enemy that out thought, out imagined and out hated them on every front. He shuddered to think what he and Henderson would have done had they confronted the same menace. Would he have managed as well as Ironhorse? Could he have done so, faced with the loss of his men the way this Colonel had? He frowned. Yes. He would have faced the reality and gone on, just as Ironhorse had done. He sympathized with the man, facing odds that seemingly grew more insurmountable every day with a handful of idiosyncratic scientists. And Mary.

He veered away from that thought. No. He had to face this. Mary, his – damn it! No. Not *his* Mary. The shock of seeing her here was sending him into a tailspin. Mary had not been Mary Straker in fifteen years, since before Johnny was born. There was no going back. Knowledge could not erase what had passed between them before. Now she understood, or thought she did. Now she sympathized, supported – but there was no love in her for him.

There. He'd faced it. Mary did not and had not loved him for a very long time. Not as a lover, not as a companion, not as a husband. He shuddered at the thought. Then he relaxed and frowned into the darkness around him. She didn't hate him. That was good. Maybe – no. He'd seen the looks, the companionship she was developing with the young black man. Sympathy for a cripple, he told himself harshly.

A wave of shame washed over him for even thinking that. Norton Drake was many things, but not a cripple. He was handicapped in not being able to walk, and that was all. The man was brilliant, humorous, kind and had a look in his eyes when he looked at Mary that said he was caring and loving also.

Ed took a breath and considered his own feelings. Jealousy. Yes, there was a touch of jealousy. But he could include the obvious friendship Norton, Harrison and Suzanne felt for each other in that jealousy. Even Col. Ironhorse was included in that feeling, although he was the most reserved of the quartet. Mary was beginning to be a part of that circle as well. Yes, he was jealous, but not the way he thought he had expected.

He examined this feeling. The Blackwood Foundation was a working organization with a leader and military backing, yet there was a relaxation of the formality he had kept in SHADO. SHADO was para-military with ranks, uniforms, a mission and a formal chain of command. Here there was Blackwood to spearhead the mission and Ironhorse to serve as enforcement and liaison with the American military and that was it. SHADO could not work the same way. Yet there was an opportunity here to expand SHADO's base of operations and to offer assistance when possible to these people.

Then it struck him. After all this time, he was fond of Mary. Her presence sparked an ache within him for what they had shared, but it was not the sharp pain he had expected. He was surprised and shocked at her presence, but he really was not particularly hurt. Not the way he had been when he had chosen between her and SHADO. The choices lay in the past. The hurt lay there also. He shook his head as though to clear it. He loved Mary. Didn't he?

The answer filtered through the years of hurt and abandonment. No. He did not love Mary. He loved the memory of his lovely bride, the child he'd married, the beauty he'd fallen so desperately in love with all those years ago. He didn't even know the woman who worked with Drake and the others. Fifteen years of SHADO, fifteen years of separation, of lives that went in two totally different directions, of social change and upheaval – He nearly laughed. There was an hysterical tinge to his thoughts. Damn. He'd wasted a lot of his emotional life regretting Mary and the errors he'd made with her.

He compared the Mary here and now to the Mary he remembered. This woman was an adult, a warm and caring person, a woman who had made choices and lived with them, who had made mistakes and learned to live with those as well. This Mary was so much more than the one he'd let leave him. Would she be the same if he had fought to keep her? If she had lived fifteen years inside the protective shell he would have built around their life together, would she be who she was now? He couldn't even answer with certainty that Johnny would still be alive if they had never parted.

Tears gathered in his eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his hand. He swallowed hard. No, there was a reason for all of this, there had to be. He prayed for the strength not to make an ass of himself while he was here. He was grateful for the box of memories she had sent him, replacing the few things he had lost in the fire that destroyed his home. He was glad she wasn't still being a vituperative shrew about their marriage and Johnny's death. God, that still hurt so deeply.

He drew a deep shaky breath and released it. If Mary could let go of the hurt and the hate, perhaps he should try to let go of his own. Well, his hurt. He had never hated Mary. Alec had. Oh, yes, his faithful second in command who had introduced the two of them had never, ever forgiven Mary for a moment of the pain she had caused.

He grinned in the darkness, the tears tracing down the sharp edges of his cheek bones. Oh, dear God, Alec. When he found out where Mary was and what she was doing - he choked back the laughter that balanced on the fine edge of hysteria. He got out of bed, walked across the room and threw open the window for some fresh air and froze for a moment. Had he set off an alarm? He hoped not. He had no desire to explain to Ironhorse why he'd needed an open window. No desire at all.

Ed groped around in the darkness for the chair he knew he'd seen, barked his knuckles on the wooden edge of the arm piece and swore silently. He grabbed the arm of the chair and dragged it over so he could sit looking out at the quiet stars. He could make out the darker shapes of the pines against the velvet sky and could just make out the sound of the surf on the nearby beach.

He worked on calming down. All right. Mary was here. Mary was the past. No. Mary's love was the past. As was his love for her. Now they were soldiers in two different wars. They were comrades in arms. He settled into the welcoming cushions of the chair, nodding to himself. He could work with this. A wry smile curved his lips. Yes, he could work with this. They would have to talk at some point. He'd have to let her know that he was all right. That everything was all right. That he – she – His head nodded back against the upholstered wing of the chair as he finally relaxed enough to sleep.

Out over the ocean, a dozen miles or more away from the Foundation headquarters, a lone spinning silver craft hovered over the waves.

/ Target acquired. /

\\ The mission is over. \\

/ Target acquired. /

\\ Shut up. \\

Puzzled silence. / Target is isolated. Target is hostile. Target …/

Weary sigh. \\ Target is defending home. Target is defending loved ones. Target is – to hell with it. We are dieing. Get us out of atmosphere, now! \\

/ Fuel reserves diminished. Home trajectory too long. Disintegration advanced. / the ship sounded puzzled.

\\ I would rather die in space. \\

/ Final view. Star rise over planetary equator. Understood. /

The ship rose and shot off toward space. SHADO's tracking stations around the world suddenly came alive. Trajectory was established. It was headed out of atmosphere. None of the Sky units were in a suitable location to stop the ship. The chase was handed over to Moonbase and its capable personnel.

The insectile looking Interceptors rose from the moon's dusty surface and flew to intercept the lone craft. The SID satellite's monotone masculine voice gave coordinates. Just as the three shining moon craft were approaching range, the whirling vehicle seemed to come apart at the seams. Debris shot off in all directions as the silence claimed what ever noise the explosion might have made. None of the Interceptor pilots noticed the splendor that was sunrise over the disc of the earth.

\\ Star rise - \\ A lone red suited figure, face plate shattered in the disintegration of his craft, turned slowly in space above the planet he had left.

End part two


	3. Chapter 3

Morning. Sunshine peeped over the horizon. A gentle breeze ruffled pale hair on the sleeping man's head and danced away to ruffle leaves on trees. Straker slept on into the morning until his hosts worried about him.

Harrison arrived at breakfast first, accepting his vegetarian omelet with a smile. He was shortly joined by Debbie, her flaxen hair caught back in a braid, and Suzanne, still looking sleepy. The girl grabbed a bowl of cereal, a banana, two pieces of toast and several pieces of bacon. Suzanne settled for coffee, black. She flumped into a chair and blinked owlishly at both her daughter and Harrison who grinned at them both.

"How do you do it?" she asked peevishly.

"Do what?"

"Act – so - :;yawn:: chirpy in the morning."

"Cat naps."

"Right. I wish I was a cat." She sat and quietly drank her coffee while Debbie filled her in on what was going on in her home school session that day.

Norton wheeled in as Debbie finished breakfast, kissed her mom and dashed off to her lessons. He also helped himself to coffee, black and joined the other two at the table as Mary came down the stairs. He smiled at her as she sat down. A pot of hot tea stood beside the chair she usually sat in. She was greatly appreciative of the tea, especially this morning.

"Good morning," she greeted her companions.

"Morning." Suzanne's response was sleepy.

"Good morning," Norton and Harrison both greeted her.

"Taking a break today?"

"I think we hit overload yesterday," Norton agreed.

"Yeah. Overload."

"Overload?" Paul asked as he walked in and poured himself a cup of coffee. He was dressed in fatigue pants and an olive drab t-shirt already stained with sweat.

"Let me guess, out running?" Mary inquired.

"Yes."

"Sometimes you astound me."

He looked puzzled by her comment. "I do?"

She opened her mouth and shut it again. Sometimes he was just as incomprehensible as her ex-husband. "Never mind."

Those eating finished breakfast in a companionable silence. It was Paul who noticed they had not been joined by their guest. He looked around curiously, then let his gaze rest on Mary.

It took her a moment to realize what was bothering him. Ed. Odd, he didn't usually sleep this late. But it had been a long day. Perhaps he'd overslept. Perhaps he needed sleep since he'd taken a jet from London to LA and then gone right to work with the Foundation.

"He may still be asleep."

"We have work to do."

"Paul –" came the protest from Suzanne, Norton and Harrison simultaneously.

"What?"

"Give it a break, Paul. We've ingested so much information in the last twelve hours that our heads are ready to burst. We need time to sort it out, to come up with a plan, a way to benefit both organizations. It's Sunday. We're resting."

"All right. But we should make certain our guest is all right?"

Mary smiled at that. "I'll go." She wiped the corners of her mouth with the linen napkin, set it on the tablecloth and pushed her chair back. "If he hasn't changed a great deal, he hardly sleeps at all for days and then he sleeps through half the day suddenly." She went back up stairs, found his door and tapped gently. No response. He was probably asleep. She turned to walk away and stopped. Bird song?

Carefully, she turned the knob and pushed the door open. The bed was empty. It looked like it had not been slept in. She frowned and looked around. Chair. Window. Just the top of his head was visible. That looked like a good way to get a stiff neck.

She walked across the room, not trying to make noise but not trying not to either. She stopped beside the chair and looked down. He looked like he could use about twelve hours of down time. But not in that position. Hoping he wasn't in the habit of automatic defense, she put a hand on his shoulder and called his name.

"Edward."

His eyes snapped open, slightly unfocused. He was very, very still. Someone was touching him. Arm. Slender. He looked up. Mary. She smiled down at him.

"I think the bed would be better. Not so likely to induce stiff necks – and backs – and shoulders –"

"Yeah," he agreed as he started to move. The hand was withdrawn. He was stiff. How long had he been sleeping there? The bedside clock said 8:30. Only three and a half hours after his normal time to get up.

"Jet lag? Information overload? Stress?" Mary offered.

"What?"

"Reasons you slept late. Although, not particularly reasons you'd sleep in a chair."

That got a slow smile. "No. Too much thinking to do."

"Well, I think you have everyone's permission to take some time to wind down and then digest and plan. Even Paul's looking tired."

He nodded and moved to the bed, pulling back the sheet and climbing in. He looked at her for a moment. "We need to talk."

"I know. But not now. Get some sleep." She reached to pull the blanket up for him. Their hands touched. He caught her hand in his. The strength in her hand surprised him. Their eyes met again. "Sleep."

He let her go. This time, his choice as well as hers. He lay there for a while after he heard the door close behind her and wondered at that. Maybe he was healing, finally.

"Y'know, if your gonna sleep the day away, the least you could do is let me know."

The twang was familiar. He opened his eyes. The sun outside was full overhead. Noon? The clock confirmed this. "Eliza," he said softly.

"Right here, honey bunch." She sat on the side of the bed. He could see the rest of the room through her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Keeping an eye on you. That's what guardian angels do, y'know." He frowned at her. She smiled back. "I know. Aliens and angels don't seem a real great fit, do they?"

"No, they don't. Caleb?"

She shook her head, her soft golden hair floating a bit as she did. "Nothin'. It's like he fell off the planet. Oops. Bad choice of words. Sorry."

"No body."

"No nothin'."

"That's - I mean - "

"I know. Look, from what I can understand, if he was anywhere, I'd at least be able to locate him, which ever way he went. Somethin' else, lover. That father of his is missin', too."

Ed blinked. "What do you mean he's missing? He's dead."

"Yeah."

His eyebrows raised. "Neither set of aliens seems to be capable of ..."

She chuckled, wind playing with water. "But so like Caleb."

Straker nodded. "You'd better go before I get caught talking to myself."

Another chuckle and she faded. He looked sad for a moment. Eliza had been a joy to know for the brief time they'd had. She'd taught him a lot about himself, about the box he'd put himself in, the box he was still in since her death. Yes, SHADO and his devotion to it had cost him dearly - Mary, Johnny, most of his chances to fall in love over the years, Caleb - but not 'Liza. He took a shaky breath. There was nothing he or SHADO or anyone could have done to change her fate. So  
>they'd taken what they had together and enjoyed it until it was no more. And then she'd shown up at his new home. That had been a shock. A major shock. He'd thought he'd cracked up until she yelled for Caleb. Caleb had burst into the room, stopped stock still and retrieved his lower jaw with aplomb.<p>

"Hi."

"'Liza."

"You can see her?"

The dark eyes had focused on him. "Yes. You're not crazy. She's here. Or we're both crazy and she's still here," he'd assured him with a grin and a laugh. He looked back at Eliza. "Of all the people to come back - 'Liza, you take the cake."

"Don't talk to me about food."

"Why not?"Caleb asked curiously.

"Ghosts don't eat."

"That's 'Liza, finding something to gripe about even now -"

She laughed. "Caleb, go away."

"Yes, ma'am." And he had left them alone.

They'd talked. She'd apologized for dieing. He'd told her not to be foolish. He'd seen her a dozen times since then. Guardian Angel. If anyone had ever needed a Guardian Angel, he'd have nominated Caleb, not himself.

She came to him when Caleb died - disappeared - vanished. Blackwood was convinced the aliens had grabbed the brash operative. Something about Ironhorse's reaction told him the Native American Marine wasn't so certain. If they had Caleb, they would know about the record book.  
>Yet the book had been left at the bottom of the cliff he'd apparently thrown himself off. And people don't just disappear. Except, maybe, Caleb.<p>

Ed got up, washed, cleared his head and dressed. He went downstairs to find his hosts. The living room was empty. The housekeeper was in the kitchen making pies for desert after dinner. She looked up and nodded.

"Hungry?"

He was about to deny it when his stomach rebelled and rumbled for him. He got a smile. She pulled bread out of the panty; meat, cheese, lettuce and tomato out of the refrigerator and had put together a sandwich with a drink before he could protest.

"I think you'll find Ms. Rutland and Suzanne out on the deck. Dr. Blackwood is napping. Col. Ironhorse is out on the grounds checking security. And I believe Mr. Drake is - "

"Right behind you. And suddenly on the verge of starving to death." He caught sight of the sandwich. "Could I have one, too?"

"I believe you know where everything is -"

"Rats. And here I thought I could charm the lady into making it for me. Gertrude, forward 10." He rolled past Straker and toward the kitchen island where the sandwich makings still sat waiting for him.

Ed nodded to both of them and strolled out toward the deck area. Suzanne was dozing in the sun. Mary was sitting on a bench, reading. Or trying to do so. She looked around as he approached and smiled. He nodded, set his food on a small outdoor table and then moved it over so he could also sit on the bench.

"If you don't mind -"

"No, I don't mind. Actually, that looks good. I'll go hunt one up myself in a few minutes."

He took a bite. It was good. For a few moments, he ate in silence. He was aware of her eyes on him, watching his profile. He wondered what she was thinking. He took a drink of iced tea and looked around at her.

"Mary - "

"Ed -"

They started to speak together.

"Go ahead."

"No, you. It can - wait."

"No, that's all right. - "

She chuckled. For a moment, it seemed she was someone else. No. Still Mary. "This is ridiculous," she told him, inviting him to share in her amusement by the tone of her voice.

"I suppose it is."

"All right. I want to apologize."

"Apologize?"

"Yes. I was - too young, too wrapped up in myself, too - too much looking for a fairy tale ending. And it did." She laughed softly. "You know, I never liked Hans Christian Anderson."

"You didn't?"

She smiled. "No. Have you ever read the original?"

"No, I believe he wrote in Swedish - or Danish."

She laughed. "That's not what I meant."

"No, I don't believe I've read him in translation, either," he relented.

"There are no happy endings to his stories. It was his contention that children liked to be scared. But he didn't let even one of his heroes truly win. Not even the girl who got her - brother? - back  
>from the Ice Queen. He wasn't whole when he came back. I wanted the other kind of Fairy Tale. I had my knight in shining armor - well, Air Force uniform, anyway - and I wanted happily ever after. Only my version of happily ever after wasn't realistic in the least. I am so sorry you got tangled up in it. It wasn't fair. I know that now. And I want you to know that it wasn't you - all right. Part of it was. Because I didn't know the man I married."<p>

"I'm sorry about that. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to -"

She reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. "It's all right. I think I dealt with the hurt, mostly self inflicted, when I saw the difference in the pictures." Oh, damn. She hadn't meant to bring that  
>up. "Oh, damn," her voice echoed her thoughts.<p>

"It's all right." He was gazing at her as though he'd never met her before. Maybe he hadn't. "I got your letter."

"That must have been interesting," she said with a laugh. "Here I am drawing conclusions, partially wrong, and probably worrying you horribly. I am sorry. I - I just wanted you to know that - that I was sorry. That I had finally realized that it was youth and inexperience and lack of trust that pulled us apart, not another woman. I don't why you married me, but I'm afraid you got young and stupid and very self centered instead of anything helpful."

"Your mother didn't help." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"No, she didn't. Neither did George. Well, he got the trophy wife he wanted and - I guess I got what I deserved. He really did cheat on me. I'm not certain I blame him. - That's not true," she amended. "I blame him a great deal. I was exactly what he wanted when he married me. If he wanted something else, he should have divorced me first."

Straker chuckled. "That is a definite change of attitude."

Her eyes met his, suddenly intent and honest. "Knowledge changes one. You know what my first thought was when I ran into the aliens?"

"No. What?"

"That they were incredibly ugly to be trying to take over the world," she told him laughing. "All right, I'm sorry. It just occurred to me that there wasn't a lot of time to think. I was incredibly grateful that you had taught me how to shoot, over my protests." Her eyes teared up remembering her first encounter with the enemy. "I told Paul I wasn't field quality. And I asked him if these - things were in England. I was so relieved when he said no. That there were no reports of them there. I kept thinking that aliens on top of everything else would just be so - wrong. I would do anything to keep them trapped here - " her face changed as she said those words, words that were changing his own world almost as fast as they were changing hers own.

"Trapped. - That's it."

For a moment he didn't follow. "That's what?"

"Part of the answer. We know they're based somewhere in the badlands in Nevada - at least, we think they are. If we could trap them there, keep them from getting out - a blockade of sorts - " She was on her feet, their conversation not so much forgotten as supplanted by the greater need. Norton had come out onto the deck and was just finishing his sandwich.

"Norton -"

"Yes?"

"Maps. I need to look at the last triangulation maps out of Nevada."

"Talley ho!" he quipped and rolled along in her wake. Straker followed as well, his lunch forgotten.

They passed Paul and Harrison on the way to the computer center. Sensing something was up, the two men followed. Once they were downstairs, Mary and Norton pulled maps and started unrolling them on every vacant surface. Straker watched fascinated to see her like this. Her eyes traveled over the maps, noting coordinates, checking layers, checking her understanding against Norton's. she looked up with a brilliant smile finally. "That's it."

"What is?" Harrison demanded.

"We trap them. We blockade them in their stronghold."

Paul and Harrison traded looks. "And just where is their stronghold?"

"Nevada! The Underground Testing Grounds."

Another exchange of looks. "Prove it."

Mary laughed. "I'm not sure we can. But look at the broadcast data. About 60 percent of it originates in this area." She pointed to the map. Just about dead center of the test area. "No, we probably can't trap all of them inside unless we're very, very lucky. But we can keep the ones who are in there where they are. There are only two main arteries to take people through the area. Most of it's desolate. Yes, they can probably get around us, but if we can set up a way to monitor this perimeter - " she traced an outline with her finger. "I think we can keep their trips out to a minimum. It's better than we're doing now."

"Mary, we don't have the manpower," Harrison objected, although it was obvious he was turning the idea over in his mind.

"I do."

Four pairs of eyes, two pale, two dark, all focused on Straker. Harrison grinned. Mary and Norton smiled. Even Paul's mouth curved upward slightly.

"We need a plan."

Much, much later, after a very late dinner and several calls to both England and Washington, DC to start coordinating their efforts, Ed Straker sat back in a very comfortable chair and watched his current companions.

They were tired. It reminded him of the early days of SHADO. Except, here, Mary was part of the team. He watched her and it was as though the pale, lovely young woman he married all those years ago was just a dream. A fairy tale. She was right about that. This wasn't the girl he married, the one he thought he loved so much it hurt. This was a beautiful, mature, intelligent, capable woman; one who could make her own decisions, live her own life, love a man who could love her back  
>for who she was now. Oh, he could fall for her all over again, but he was discovering that as much as he liked the woman Mary had grown into, the mad passion he had known before was no longer there. He felt fiercely proud of her, and protective, but not of some fragile princess to be cherished and protected from harsh reality. He felt protective as he did of all his people.<p>

Mary was no longer the unattainable woman, she was a part of a team that was necessary to the continued survival of the human race. Now she was on his playing field, not a prize, an equal. He felt a warm glow of pride. In a very small way, he had contributed to that growth. Looking at her didn't hurt. Being with her didn't feel like a sharp stab in the heart. He could smile and mean it. He could forgive.

Now, if he could just get Alec to see reason -

End


End file.
